“How so?”
“She has been carried away from me; I know not whither.”
“When the old ewe baas the lamb will bleat,” said the Quatuorvir. “We shall find the means to make you produce her. Lady Quincta, my duty compels me to send you back to prison. You shall be allowed two days’ respite. Unless, by the end of [pg 238]that time, you are able and willing to give us the requisite information, you will be put to the question, and I doubt not that a turn of the rack will refresh your memory and relax your tongue.”
“I cannot tell what I do not know.”
“Remove the woman.”
The magistrate leaned back, and turning his head to the pontiff, said: “Did not your worthy father, Spurius, die of a surfeit of octopus? I had a supper off the legs last night, and they made me sleep badly; they are no better than marine leather.” Then to the vigiles: “Bring forward Falerius Marcianus.”
The deacon was conducted before the magistrate. He was pale, and his lips ashen and compressed. His dark eyes turned in every direction. He was looking for kinsmen and patron.
“You are charged, Falerius, with having broken the image of the god whom Nemausus delights to honor, and who is the reputed founder of the city. You conveyed his head to the house of Baudillas, and several witnesses have deposed that you made boast that you had committed the sacrilegious act of defacing the statue. What answer make you to this?”
Marcianus replied in a low voice.
“Speak up,” said the magistrate; “I cannot hear thee, the wind blusters and bellows so loud.” Aside to the pontiff Smerius he added: “And ever since that evil blast you wot of, I have suffered from a singing in my ears.”